What Have They Done With The Rain?
by Foul Ole Ron
Summary: I hereby disclaim this story. “Did you steal him from Ginny?” “No, Ginny dumped him,” “Why?” “He smells funny.”
1. There's A Place For All Of Us

**WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?**

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**There's**** a Place for All of Us **

On Wednesday the ninth of April, at approximately two forty-two pm, something very odd happened. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking across Hogwarts grounds when Hermione gave an ear-splitting yell of tortured agony.

"What?" said Harry,

"I don't know," said Hermione.

"Then why did you give an ear-splitting yell of tortured agony?" asked Ron.

"Meh," said Hermione, shrugging,

"God I love you, Hermione," said Ron heatedly.

"_Really? I thought you were __gay," said Hermione curiously,_

"No, no, I just like to give that impression!"

"Why the hell would you do that?" said Harry absently, gazing at the antics of a passing butterfly.

"Just one of my more appealing quirks," said Ron, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"Er, yeah," said Hermione, rolling her eyes in an impatient and degrading way, "_I'm in love with _Dean _anyhow, so you can just _keep_ on __quirking." Ron looked hurt and Harry wasn't listening, so all in all, the day wasn't all that productive a day. That night, the trio had strangely dissatisfying feelings in the pits of its stomachs._

The next morning it was potions class and there was a new student called The-At-Buggerit. Professor Snape went into cardiac-arrest over his name, and the class was cut rather cut short. Luckily, it was the wizarding world, and Dumbledore was able to cure Snape in the twinkle of an eye (literally. It was quite scary). But still, the Trio, The-At-Buggerit and all the other Gryffindors and Slytherins had the rest of the lesson to themselves. Harry seemed back on track today, and Ron and Hermione had patched things up again. The-At-Buggerit seemed bent on ruining that though…..

"Hi, I'm The-At-Buggerit!" said The-At-Buggerit,

"We know, you caused Snape to go into Cardiac Arrest, remember?" said the Trio

"Oh yeah," said The-At-Buggerit, tossing his mane of long golden hair behind his head. The tiny little bones braided into it clinked as he moved.

"What's with the moustache?" asked Ron,

"Yeah, and the helmet with the two spikes coming out the side," said Harry vaguely,

"I don't know. I was born like that, I guess." Said The-At-Buggerit smiling in a way that reminded them disturbingly of Dumbledore.

"Are you related to Dumbledore in any way?" asked Hermione fearfully.

"Yup!" said The-At-Buggerit benignly, "I'm his illegitimate son!"

"_Dumbledore has an illegitimate son?" cried Ron,_

"Well _obviously," said Hermione, with the air of one hoping for a fight. Ron didn't rise, because Ron was too occupied with The-At-Buggerit._

"Who was your mother?" said Ron, revelling in the scandal.

"_Ron, don't be _rude!_" said Hermione waspishly,_

"Why are you so waspish?" asked Harry,

"_Because, I have a wasp stuck inside my ear lobe, fool!"_

"Oh, right," said Harry, "So, what house are you in, The-At-Buggerit?" he asked,

"I don't know yet," said The-At-Buggerit, "I wasn't sorted because as soon as Dumbledore set eyes on me all his suppressed memories of younger days came flooding and there were several flashbacks that could be likened to a scene from a corny daytime soap," He said with a smile, "I haven't seen him for about fourteen years, you know." Harry, Ron and Hermione backed a way slowly and left The-At-Buggerit to talk to Malfoy. Malfoy wasn't all that happy about it.

"'The-At-Buggerit', honestly, _what_ kind of name is that?"

"Well, it originated when my father, Dumbledore you know, came into-"

"I don't give a flying crap about your… whoa, hang on a second – did you say _Dumbledore _was your father?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed in malicious glee as he contemplated the outrage.

"Yes, yes, but anyway, as I was saying-"

"This is going to be _brilliant!" and without taking in a further syllable of The-At-_

Buggerit's, Malfoy strode off rubbing his hands together and cackling evilly.

Back in the Gryfindor common room, Harry was playing chess with Ron and Parvati Patil was trying to crack on to him, which was very strange because she had despised him with all her heart and soul ever since the Yule Ball in their fourth year. But, whatever her motive, Harry was completely oblivious to her advances. 

"Oh, _Harry, you look so handsome tonight!" said Parvati pathetically._

"Hey Ron, you can't move your king three spaces!" said Harry indignantly (which wasn't very indignantly because Harry just didn't seem to be able to be forceful any more)

"Just checking," said Ron quirkily, "Seeing if you were on your toes, you know,"

"Do you miss Sirius, Harry? I know _I would! I'd be looking for comfort-"_

"Ron! You can't move-"

"Just watch me. Don't you know about the castling rule?" asked Ron in shock.

"_Harry. You show him, Harry, don't let him walk all over you. Now me, I wouldn't walk all over you, I'd-"_

"Argh, I give up. I just can't seem to concentrate lately, you know. Something to do 

with-"

"Your green eyes, Harry, there're so startling. And your unruly, lice infested, _seductive jet-black hair, I mean, it just takes my breath away-"_

"Maybe you should get some rest, mate, you know, big quiddich game tomorrow!"

"Yeah, I think I will. Night all!" said Harry, without even noticing Parvati Patil's hand caressing the sleeve of his robe. With that he stomped off to bed and accidentally slammed the door behind him, giving people the completely inaccurate impression that he was in fact in the midst of a towering rage.

"Verse you in chess?" asked Ron of Parvati. Parvati simply gave him a withering stare of utmost revulsion and flounced off to the girls dormitories. Ron gave a bewildered shrug and followed Harry up to their dormitory.

The next day, Snape was better, Hermione was still waspish, Neville had a frog in his pants, and it was Saturday, the day of the big quiddich match. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The-At-Buggerit was presented with a problem. He had two sets on new friends: 

Malfoy and his evil, skulking gang of Slytherins, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, the do-gooding, chess-playing Trio from Gryffindor. The question was: Which team to go for in the quiddich cup? This was just one of the questions that The-At-Buggerit faced in the course of his bewildering everyday life. The-At-Buggerit was still contemplating his predicament when Harry and Ron and Hermione arrived in the Great Hall.

"Hey, The-At-Buggerit, why are you sitting at the Gryffindor table? I thought you hadn't been sorted yet!" said Ron irritably.

"Yeah," said Harry vaguely,

"Well," said The-At-Buggerit, "There doesn't seem to be anywhere else to sit," he smiled happily, "I could always go and sit with my other friend, Malfoy there, but he looked a little cross when I went over, so I've decided to leave him alone for a bit,"

"Right," said Harry, trying to bring himself to eat a piece of toast,

"Harry, it's a big game, you have to eat," said Ron, shovelling in vast amounts of chocolate-covered sultana-bran.

"Yeah I know. I just feel a bit queasy. Maybe it's the thought of all those people in the stadium, or maybe its that apple-pie I had last night, but I feel like vomiting big time, actually,"

"Did you hear me Harry? I said you had to eat," said Ron dismissively, "And I'm the new captain and what I say goes,"

"I still can't believe they made _you captain and not me," said Harry disinterestedly,_

"I just have better people skills than you. Now, _eat!_" Ron piled Harry's spoon with sultana bran and proceeded to force it down Harry's throat.

"Ok, ok, I can feed myself already!" cried Harry, gulping it down at top-speed.

"That's slave labour, that is," said Hermione.

Stay Tuned…….


	2. There Is Something Happening But You Don...

**WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?**

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**There is Something Happening, But You Don't Know What it Is**

After breakfast, the Trio marched down to the quiddich pitch, and Hermione went off to sit with Dean, and Ron and Harry went of to join the rest of the team.

"Boy am I glad we got rid of Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet and Katie Bell," said Ron firmly,

"Why?" asked Harry curiously, "They were like our best players."

"Harry, I'm not going to have that attitude on my quiddich team, ok? _We_ are the best players, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!"

"Ok," said Harry, "But we really do need better chasers. Ginny and Colin aren't all that-"

"Harry," said Ron dangerously, "You'd better shut up _now._"

"Ok."

Finally, they were out on the quiddich pitch and ready to go. The two teams stood at either end, glaring daggers at each other. Madam Hooche tried to impress upon them that they had to start in the middle of the pitch, but, after realising that their was no hope of getting Ron and Malfoy to shake hands anyway, she gave up and blew the whistle. Harry zoomed up into the air and began to float aimlessly over the pitch, occasionally glancing down at the crowd below.

"Hey," yelled Malfoy, "_Potter, aren't you even going to __try this time?" for the first time in his life, he actually looked disappointed at the fact that Gryffindor would be an easy win, "You're really taking the challenge, and the – the __fun – out of quiddich, dare I say it." Harry looked at him blankly,_

"Oh, right, sorry." He did not even bother to give Malfoy a dirty look, but simply swooped down and tried to be involved in the game. Ever since the death of his poor godfather, Harry had never really been the same. Funnily enough, Ron and Hermione hadn't seemed to notice. Harry had stopped thinking about Sirius, but that just seemed to get that empty feeling out of the pit of his stomach. An empty feeling that just refused to go away, and caused him to think of nothing _but the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. What he really needed, he felt, was a good mystery to solve or another unprovoked attack from Lord Voldemort. It would occupy his mind, perhaps, and maybe even cause at least some of the prophecy to come true. It might also get Ron and Hermione out of the strange moods they seemed to have adopted since the beginning of their sixth year. _

"HARRY!" Ron's voice reverberated around the quidditch pitch. "MALFOY'S SEEN THE SNITCH!" Harry lurched out of his thoughts and realised he was simply drifting along the bottom of the pitch, his feet trailing gently across the grass. 

Looking up, he saw Malfoy lazily reaching for the fluttering golden snitch, an ugly scowl on his face. Galvanised into action, he lunged towards the Slytherin boy, his arm outstretched. 

Unfortunately, The-At-Buggerit chose that exact moment to let out a loud whoop of applause, apparently to cheer on both teams. Malfoy did not bother to look up, but Harry witnessed the full horror of The-At-Buggerit's hair tied with green, silver, red and gold ribbons, and the massive banner he was holding up, which featured a huge, vicious lion's head whose body tapered of into a silvery snake tail. Around it were splodges of the colour you get when you mix red and green. 

Harry's eyes widened and he forgot all about the snitch. Giving a hoarse cry of protest, he turned away from the monstrosity to find Malfoy rolling his eyes and holding up the snitch. Harry sighed and shrugged, what was a quidditch game, or house rivalry for that matter, when you were the sixteen year old who had to kill a mass murderer and save the world? He could not even be bothered to glare at the hated Malfoy.  Ron was quite unaffected by their loss. Harry felt this extremely out of character, even though the Gryffindor team had spectacularly lost every game they'd played so far.

"Well," said Ron, "We'll do better next time. We weren't on our top form. We were sluggish (he didn't even glare accusingly at Harry, to his credit), and I've a feeling it was that sultana bran this morning. I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about that. I mean, maybe the house elves made a mistake when they made it or something," and with that Ron ran a hand through his hair, smiled into the distance and rushed off towards the castle. The rest of the team sat in silence for a full minute.

"You know," said Ginny, "I think there is something bothering Ron,"

"Hmm," the rest of the team agreed.

About a week after the game, the virtually non existent talk had died down, and Malfoy remembered that The-At-Buggerit was Dumbledore's illegitimate son. 

"Hey, Pansy," he said, over a butter beer in the _Three Broomsticks,_ "Did you know that The-At-

Buggerit is-"

"Draco, how many times have I told you, do _not_ wear you're Slytherin-green robes with your purple shirt,"

"Sorry. I was just saying that The-At-buggerit is-"

"And those snake patterns around the sleeves? It's just plain childish, Draco," 

"Yes, but-"

"I'll be back in a second; I can see Griselda Gorrington over there, she has these _divine leopard skin boots!" Pansy Parkinson rose and headed towards a tall girl with short blue hair and black lipstick. Malfoy gave up and gazed thoughtfully into his tankard. The time, obviously, was not right.But he could wait. His other thought was that Pansy was getting too big for her boots, so to speak. _

Maybe he should break up with her, was his next thought. He wouldn't really care, because he did not particularly like Pansy, for her mind at least. 

These thoughts were not pleasing to Malfoy, and they lead him to darker matters, such as when his father was going to break out of Azkaban already.

 "Harry," began Hermione while they were quietly doing their potions essays in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room,

"You know Professor Dunglegit?" she asked.

"Hmm,"

"Well, do you think he has something to do with Voldemort?"

"No." 

"Oh."

Harry calmly continued writing. It was true. He did not think that Professor Dunglegit, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had anything to do with Voldemort. He was not sure why he felt this, he just did, and he really didn't care either way because he knew that sooner or later, the true evil would reveal itself, with or without his help, and he couldn't do anything about it. Hermione looked to Ron for help,

"Ron, don't _you think Dunglegit is really suspicious?"_

"Could be, Hermione, could be," said Ron condescendingly. Hermione glared at him,

"Don't take that condescending tone with me, Ronald Weasley!" To Harry's confusion, Ron didn't even get angry at this,

"Why not, Hermione, why not?" he said, smiling happily.

"Argh!" said Harry, showing unusual emotion, "You're smiling like The-At-Buggerit,"

"No I'm not," said Ron, scowling like Malfoy, "I'm scowling like Malfoy!" he giggled suddenly. Harry suddenly broke into a sweat. There was something wrong, he knew it. 

"When d'you reckon Dumbledore's going to sort The-At-Buggerit?" said Hermione, randomly changing the subject, all anger gone from her voice. Harry screwed up his face and pinched himself. He could not help feeling that reality was being skewed somehow. Everything seemed very _intense somehow. The orange of Ron's hair seemed to be even more vivid than usual, and Harry was having difficulty distinguishing it from the flames behind him. Hermione's eyes seemed over-bright, and she was absently doodling flowers on her potions parchment. Hermione was not a person who normally doodled on anything, and Harry blinked stupidly at her as she smiled at Ron and raised her hand to give him a high-five. Hoping it was his own depressed mood that was giving him the impression that his friends were going mad; Harry shook his head and headed off to bed._

"Are you still going out with Dean, Hermione?" Ron's voice followed him up the dormitory stairs,

"Did you steal him from _Ginny?"_

"No, Ginny dumped him,"

"Why?"

"He smells funny." 


	3. Madness Rising

**WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?**

**Madness Rising**

It was two months now since The-At-Buggerit had started at Hogwart's school of witchcraft and wizardry, and still he had not been sorted. It seemed strange to Harry Potter and his friends, and his enemies, that The-At-Buggerit didn't seemed to mind at all. You would have thought that Dumbledore's _son would have been put straight into Gryffindor, no question. But still he just seemed to float around the school, attending most of Harry's classes, but occasionally swapping when he felt like it. None of the teachers seemed to mind, in fact, Harry noticed that most of them just gave a broad smile whenever The-At-Buggerit entered the room and continued with the lesson in a much more jovial manner. When  Harry witnessed even Professor McGonagall engaging in this kind of behaviour, he felt even more confused than ever. But no one else seemed to notice, so Harry put it down to his depressed state again and thought little of it._

As Harry was walking to class one day, lost in thought, he bumped into Luna Lovegood.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna.

"Oh, hi Luna," murmured Harry, looking at his timetable. Luna Lovegood had become a friend of Harry's the previous year, but he hadn't seen much of her so far this year. Luna was another person who seemed to float around the school, though in a far more ethereal way than The-At-Buggerit. Harry knew that he, the rest of the Trio, Ginny and Neville Longbottom were probably Luna's only friends, and he wondered what she had been doing so far this term if not hanging around _him_. Then he realised that this was an extremely arrogant thought and that of course Luna had far better things to do than go around with a boy who was so obviously depressed and whose friends had so obviously lost the plot. Distractedly, he tried to work out where he was going.

"Have you met The-At-Buggerit yet, Harry?" asked Luna conversationally, apparently unaware that Harry was in no mood to talk.

"Hmm," said Harry, still unable to find the right room on his time-table.

"He's very happy, isn't he? Nothing seems to bother him, does it?" she smiled. Harry stared at her incredulously. 

"Er, yes, he is happy…" Harry stared in to her huge, protuberant eyes and frowned slightly, "He's happy…but, Luna, do you think there's something…I don't know…_odd?" Harry shook his head, scolding himself inwardly, he had promised himself that this year he would not find __anything strange. He knew he was headed for another disaster if he pursued all the little oddities that made up everyday life at Hogwarts…but still he wondered about The-At-Buggerit…_

"You know, Harry, I think I do," Luna said suddenly, absently fiddling with one of the huge, kitchen utensil shaped charms that made up the bracelet she was wearing through her fingers and looking into the distance.  Harry watched her expectantly, waiting for some explanation.

"We found the Crumple-horned snorkak this summer, did I tell you?" she said dreamily, changing the subject without hesitation, "It was very exciting," she flipped her long, dirty-blond hair over her shoulder and began to finger-comb the ends,

"Anyway, I have to get to class. Potions, you know. Bye, Harry," and without waiting for a reply she turned and began to walk away, drifting obliviously along with a quill behind her ear and her bag trailing close to the ground behind her.  Harry gazed after her, his jaw slack. Luna was the only person acting normally, and Luna's self wasn't particularly normal or useful. Shaking his head again, he traipsed up a nearby flight of stairs in the hope they would lead him to transfiguration class.

Draco Malfoy had been doing his potions homework when the owl had came. He had been so engrossed in the pattern someone's spilt coffee had made on the tattered old parchment of his textbook that he had jumped in an extremely undignified way and glanced nervously around the Slytherin common room to make sure no one had seen him. Luckily it was well past midnight and the place was deserted. Regaining his composure, Malfoy had picked up a bedraggled screech owl from the floor (It had simply soared through the window; Slytherins like well-ventilated dungeons even in the midst of a storm) that had crashed into his cold stone chair with a squawk. Calmly, Malfoy cast the owl back out into the rainy night without a second thought and opened the letter he had retrieved from its leg. His icy grey eyes scanned the parchment and for once a cruel smirk had not manifested itself on his sharp face. Folding the letter carefully, the blond boy had placed it in his pocket and walked over to the window, frowning slightly. As light rain fell onto his face and trickled down into his robes, Malfoy had wondered _why Slytherins liked well-ventilated dungeons. _

On the Friday before the second Quidditch game, Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, Harry and Ron was exhausted from the even more massive amount of homework piled upon them from the new and exciting Newt classes. They sat in the Library with Ginny and Luna Lovegood, and Harry moaned about his life, even more than usual because Ron was being his unusual chirpy self and he had to make up for it.

"Ah, well, Harry, I'm sure you'll get to be an auror. Remember Professor McGonagall promised to help you last year? You should take her up on it," Ron said bracingly.

"It was really more of a heat-of-the-moment lashing out at Professor Umbridge than anything else, you know," said Harry. Harry stared at his red-haired friend, it felt as if he didn't know him. Every word that came out of Ron's mouth seemed to jangle around in his brain, making him cringe every so often . Luna also stared at Ron, and unusually calculating look in her eye. Harry glanced at her in surprise, but her face had quickly reverted to its usual faraway self and she smiled.

"I've just got to go and get my spell book from Michael Corner," she said sweetly, rising gracefully from the table. Ginny, who had previously been absorbed in the letter she was writing, started at the sound of this name, and gave Luna a sharp look,

"He hasn't stolen it from you, has he?" she asked dangerously,

"Oh, no," said Luna calmly, "He's just borrowed it, I think…"

"But did he _ask for it, Luna?" Ron's voice was cheery, as if really, it didn't matter much either way._

"Well, I don't think so…"

"Then he _stole it!" roared Ginny, in what Harry thought was an unnecessarily loud tone of voice, seeing as Michael Corner was nowhere in the vicinity. Not even Ginny was spared from the madness, it seemed. Leaning his head on his upturned palms, elbows on the desk, Harry watched as Ginny began to get more and more red in the face, ranting at all of them while Ron observed calmly, occasionally adding a comment or two. Luna, looking decidedly confused, shrugged her shoulders, flicked her stringy hair over her shoulders and ambled slowly out of the library. As her blond head disappeared behind the door, Harry cast a fearful glance at the two siblings, who were still deep in discussion, Ginny's voice rising shrilly over Ron's even tones. A look that could be likened to that of a startled rabbit passed across his features, and he jumped to his feet and raced out to catch up with Luna. In the distance he heard Ginny yell,_

"Hasn't that cocky bastard ever heard of the ten commandments? Thou shalt not _steal, God damn it!_

…the plot thickens...


	4. The Thickening of the Plot

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**WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?**

**The Thickening of the Plot**

Harry Potter kicked a loose pebble on the footpath, and watched it skittle along the pavement and come to rest under someone's letterbox. He sighed. He had no one to talk to and nothing to think about except his woes. His scar had begun to hurt again in September, and his friends, and the general populace of Hogwarts it seemed, had taken a turn for the worse. With two weeks until Christmas, Harry was on a Hogsmeade weekend, but he did not feel like drinking non-alcoholic beverages in the unhealthy atmosphere of _The Three Broomsticks, like everyone else, so he had had walked up to the no-longer shrieking shack and was moodily shifting about the small amount of snow that covered the street. He knew it probably wasn't very sensible for Harry Potter to wander around in the most questionable and isolated part of Hogsmeade, but he figured, since when have I acted sensibly?  Suddenly he heard footsteps behind him._

"Hello, Harry!" it was The-At-Buggerit. _Bugger it._

"Hi The-At-Buggerit," sighed Harry. Taking a closer look at the Viking wannabe, Harry saw that he had replaced the bones in his hair with festively coloured ribbons, baubles, and bells that tinkled in an extremely annoying fashion. He had retained his horned cap, however. 

"Want some chewing gum?" asked The-At-Buggerit, smiling broadly and offering Harry a bulky, gaudily wrapped package that presumably contained the aforesaid gum. Harry was just about to say, 'Yeah, why not' when another voice broke  in.

"_I'd like some gum," said Luna Lovegood, somewhat urgently. He hadn't heard her coming. Before The-At-Buggerit could utter another sound, she had taken the package from his still extended hand and begun to open the package. Harry sighed, because now he knew that he'd been wrong about Luna. She was just as crazy as the rest of them. _

"Hey!" said The-At-Buggerit. Harry stared at him like he was a stranger. The absence of a smile rendered his face unrecognizable. Truly, he now looked nothing like Dumbledore. He was not half so appealing without his smile, in fact, if Harry was any judge, he looked down right _evil_. _Ok, _thought Harry,_ maybe not evil, that's a bit strong, but defiantly Slytherin like! But the smile was soon plastered back on his round face, and Harry wondered if he'd imagined sudden look of conniving intelligence that appeared on The-At-Buggerit's face for a split second. _

"I meant to give that gum to _Harry, Luna," said The-At-Buggerit in a slightly forced but otherwise pleasant tone._

"Oh, sorry," said Luna distantly, "Thanks, The-At-Buggerit." Luna stuffed the gum in her mouth and left them standing on the road. No one noticed that she spat it out as soon as she was out of sight.  Harry scratched his pounding head, and not for the first time he questioned his sanity. 

"Oh, well, bye The-At-Buggerit," he said, turning to go back to Hogsmeade. 

"Bye Harry!" said The-At-Buggerit happily, "I'm going to take a closer look at this shrieking shack!" he headed off up the hill humming _When the Saints Go Marching In._

When Harry Potter got back to _The Three Broomsticks it was four thirty in the afternoon. Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville stumbled out of the pub, obviously on sugar highs – or something._

"Harry!" Ron giggled, "I tried firewhisky!" he laughed again, "So did Hermione!" Harry gaped at him. Hermione? Alcoholic Beverages?

"But you're prefects," said Harry dumbly.

"Yes, Harry, but Fred and George were there. They gave it to us _free_," said Ginny in the manner of one talking to a _very small child._

"An' its wunnerful, 'Arry, really it is," said Hermione, red in the face and messy-haired. Suddenly she lurched to one side and vomited on Ron's shoe.  

"That's disgusting," said Ron with a smile.

"I say we sing, to make it all better!" cried Ginny,

"_Puff the Magic Dragon, Lived by the Sea," sang Ron in a slurred voice,_

"_And frolicked in the autumn mists in a land called Honalee!" sang Hermione, wiping sick off her mouth,_

"_Little Jackie Paper-"  began Neville_

"What is _wrong with you?!" bellowed Harry, showing rare emotion. _

"We're drunk," said Ginny simply,

"As Billy goats," agreed Ron.

Later that day, Harry realised that the following week would be the last week before Christmas. Monday would be their last day of classes. He was somewhat relieved, although he was not so far behind in his work as could have been expected – and it amazed him that he had quite as much, if not more work than Hermione. His confused thought was that maybe although this lunacy in air was actually a good thing. It was eliminating the competition, for one thing. Even Malfoy seemed distracted of late; his attempts at insulting Harry and the people he hung around with were few and far between. Harry forced his sluggish brain to wonder, but whenever he tried The-At-Buggerit's smiling face seemed to pass before his mind's eye in a flurry of painted bells and singing angles.

It was Christmas Eve, and Harry and Ron were playing chess like old times in the Great Hall while Hermione sat and braided Luna Lovegood's hair. Luna, not at all perturbed by this strange and girlish display, was watching Harry reasonably intently and carefully attaching coloured sequins to a Christmas card she was making. Parvati Patil was also their, glaring daggers at Harry, who had been ignoring her all year. She sat in a corner by herself, forsaken by Lavender Brown, with her long black hair draped sullenly across her face. Her sharp black eyes watched Harry closely as she turned something Malfoy had said over and over in her mind. Seamus Finnegan, a tall, thin Irish boy with blond hair and a sexy smile, sat on a armchair with Ginny Weasley on his lap, occasionally kissing her neck. Dean Thomas sat a little apart from Parvarti Patil, an equally surly expression on his face as he watched his supposed best friend getting it on with his ex-girlfriend in full view of anyone in the room who was interested (which they weren't). There were also a few unimportant first, second and third years lounging around and playing snap and dancing to the tune of _Here we go round the Mulberry Bush. _

"Check mate!" said Ron happily, "Better luck next time, Harry!" Harry couldn't be bothered to gape at him or ask him why he had not decapitated Seamus Finnegan yet, so he turned to Luna Lovegood. 

"Do you like my card?" she asked with a smile, holding up a surprisingly beautiful picture of a sleigh pulled by unicorns with 'Merry Christmas' in Red and Green across the top. Harry smiled his first genuine smile in months and nodded.

"It's great. I didn't know you were such a good drawer." She shrugged her shoulders graciously and stuck her red and green pens back behind her ears. 

"It's for Neville. To cheer him up, you know." Harry raised his eyebrows. Why would Neville need cheering up?

"He's sick. Didn't you know?" Luna, who's expression was constantly one of surprise due to her huge eyes and high-set eyebrows, managed to look even more surprised. Harry shook his head,

"No, I didn't. What's wrong with him?"

"Well, know one knows, do they? He's in the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey has know idea what's wrong. He started getting poorly that day The-At-Buggerit  made that dreadful quidditch poster, you remember?" 

"Yeah…" Harry trailed off. It felt like he should be making some kind of connection at this point, but his mind had gone blank. There was defiantly something wrong with him. He tapped Ron on the shoulder and looked up at Hermione standing behind Luna.

"Did you two know Neville was sick?" he asked quietly,

"Oh, _is he?" said Hermione, "How _terrible,"_ her tone was anything but sympathetic,_

"I knew he was sick," said Ron, "But it's probably nothing. You know Neville, always making a big deal out of nothing." Harry felt anger uncoil within him like a serpent for the first time since Sirius had died,

"_What are you talking about, Ron? You've been spouting rubbish all year, and you've got to stop," Harry gripped Ron by the shoulders and shook him forcefully, "Get a _grip," _Ron stared at him wild-eyed, his face flushed. He screwed up his face in an ugly scowl,_

"No, Harry, _you get a grip, you're the one who's been moping around like it's doomsday! _I _haven't even-"_

"Shutup!"

"What?"

"I _said shutup!!" Harry was practically screaming, but no one seemed to notice. Indeed, Ginny and Seamus hadn't even hesitated in their kiss. Hermione put a hand on his arm and tried to speak soothingly, but he wrenched his arm away and snarled at her,_

"You're just as bad as he is. The pair of you – _honestly_. There is something wrong, I know it! AND I'M GOING TO FIND OUT WHAT IT IS!" with that, Harry stormed out of the Great Hall, feeling more normal than he'd done in ages. Absently thanking Hermione for doing her hair, Luna left the stunned duo and followed Harry out the door. 

She caught up with him just before he reached the Gryffindor Common room.

"Harry, you're very angry," she said, causing him to turn around.

"Well, thankyou, Captain Obvious!" Harry yelled back. Luna gave him a searching look,

"I think it's a good thing," she said, disregarding his angry manner. As he looked into her calm, dreamy face, Harry though that in some weird way, Luna looked very pretty with her two French Braids and big brown eyes…

So ends the fourth instalment…


	5. Silence Lifted From the Dust

**WHAT HAVE THEY DONE WITH THE RAIN?**

**Silence Lifted From the Dust**

Draco Malfoy stood knee deep in powdery, virgin snow and gazed sourly up at the moon. The sky was clear for a winter's night, and the air bereft of any wind, though still decidedly cold. Malfoy was standing a few metres away from the eaves of the Forbidden Forest; he did not fancy waiting any closer to its gloomy depths. It was one minute past twelve: Christmas day…

Harry Potter sat on in the window seat of his dormitory and had the strangest to desire to throw himself into the starry night, come what may. He shook his head furiously and rubbed his eyes. He had been having the strangest of dreams…_he had been walking through a forest with Ron and Hermione. Luna Lovegood had been calling to them to hurry, but Ron's leg was broken, just like it had in their third year under the whomping willow.  Neville Longbottom, tall and round and forgetful was calling too, he had a frog in his pants? Draco Malfoy popped up from behind a tree, his face contorted in a silent scream…Harry sighed – it was a just a load of garbled rubbish his befuddled mind had produced at the end of a difficult day. A small movement caught his eye near the dark line that was the edge of the forbidden forest… a pinprick of light that had to have been made by somebody's wand… _

Luna Lovegood lay in her four-poster bed in the fifth year Ravenclaw-girls dormitory. She was wide-awake and staring through the open drapes of her bed with sightless eyes. She remained completely still, and to the casual observer she might have been dead. Ever so slowly, she moved one arm upwards until it was vertical. Clasped in her hand was a crumpled piece of parchment. Her unblinking eyes surveyed it closely…

The-At-Buggerit sat alone at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, wearing an invisibility cloak so as not to be seen by passing house-elves. He rested his laughing face on his hands, and finger combed his straw coloured hair. He was feeling slightly perplexed. His father still would not speak to him, and he could not tell why. Professor Severus Snape also pretended he did not exist, which complicated matters significantly… and there was also Luna Lovegood  to consider. Had she eaten the gum she had stolen from him? Another puzzling piece of information was that he had just witnessed Draco Malfoy sneak out of the castle, dressed for the weather and carrying a large bundle. If exclamations of annoyance were The-At-Buggerit's forte, he would have sworn right there and then, but they were not, and so he merely smiled…


End file.
